The Unmoving Variable
by Abadouche
Summary: Dean Winchester has never believed he was of any use, can the words of a certain angel convince him otherwise?


Dean was pissed. He had every right to be, Sam hated him, an army of rouge angels was on the loose, Cas was MIA, and everyone he considered a friend had died at least once. Not to mention he had the Mark of All That is Unholy burned into his forearm. Dean was doing his best, trying to hold what was left of his family together while plotting to defeat a knight of hell, assuming closing the gates was out of the question. There was also the looming threat of Metatron, the supposed new god, over their heads. It was too much.

Dean drug his fingers along the edge of his "Miller Genuine Draft" tearing the label off in the process. It was by no means his favorite, watery and not nearly strong enough, but it would make do. He took a final sip before pulling the wrapper off and sliding the empty bottle towards the six others at the end of the table. It was so like Dean, drinking his problems away. What would his dad think?

"Take care of Sammy."

"C'mon Dean, look alive"

"It only takes one mistake"

"What the hell were you thinking"

"Look at me, boy."

"You're useless"

"Useless, you hear?"

Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Idiot. All slurs John had drunkenly yelled at Dean. All of them had been taken to heart. All of them true, nonetheless. Dean began to stand up, it was quite inconvenient, having the main table four rooms over from the kitchen. Dean had tried convincing Sam to get a mini fridge about a thousand times, yet never succeeded in doing so. On his way to the fridge, John's voice popped into his head once again.

"Why can't you be more like your brother?"

"You will never fill my shoes, you're not strong enough."

Dean could never forget his favorite, "It's your fault that your mom is dead." Or, "If it weren't for you, she'd still be alive. We wouldn't be in this mess." Even, "Sammy was your job, you should have checked on him that night. You should have been the one on that ceiling. You." John seemed to remind Dean of this on a daily basis, sure he was drunk, but you know what they say, if you want to know how someone really feels, you spike their drink.

Dean stumbled into the kitchen, taking a sudden interest in the tile floor. He began to open the fridge, but last second decided he needed something stronger. He wandered over to the cabinet, where a various selection of alcohols lay. He pulled at the bottle closest to him, being careful not to drop it. The label was in some sort if foreign language, it read, "Fränkischer" German, he guessed. He reached towards a glass but decided to just drink it straight from the bottle. It's not like Sam would ever drink it, and he sure as hell wasn't letting Cas within a ten mile radius of any form of drug or alcohol after Zachariah showed him what 2014 could have been. Boy, had he been close to saying yes to Michael after that. He had to admit, Zachariah was good at what he did, finding people's weak spot and using it against them. Dean's, of course, being family.

He sat back down at the table, his father's words still jumbling through his head. Pathetic, as he sat here, drinking away his problems, suddenly he was a scared little boy again. Scared of losing Sammy and Cas. Scared of being alone. Weak, he couldn't kill Abbadon without being hopped up on some sort of Supernatural steroid. Useless, without Sam he never could have done all this research, never would have even come close to finding the bunker, and the apocalypse would have happened years ago. Without Bobby he never would have known a life outside of hunting, never would have known a home. Without Kevin God's attempt at a diary would never have been legible. Without Ellen and Jo he never would have known the pain of sacrifice, never would have known the price of pure bravery. Without Garth he never would have known that you didn't have to follow the traditional ways of hunting in order to get success. Without Charlie he wouldn't have ever gotten in touch with his inner geek, he wouldn't know how to have fun while on the job. Without Jody he wouldn't know how strong a person truly can be.

As for Cas? Without Cas he wouldn't have ever had someone who truly believed in him, through the good and the bad. Without Cas he wouldn't know that it was okay to fuck up every once in a while and still be a considerably good person. Without Cas he never would have known the true meaning of free will, and the misfortune that follows those who fight for it. Without Cas he would never had believed in second chances. Without Cas he never would have had someone to call a "friend."

And here Dean sat, pondering what he could possibly have to offer someone. He can picture it now, "Hello, I'm Dean Winchester, I come bearing a lifelong sob story and near defiant death to anyone who dare converse with me." Wonderful. He took another sip from the bottle. He looked at the pad of paper beneath his arm and picked up a pen next to him. He began to make a list-

Dean Winchester is-

•pathetic

•arrogant

•weak

•a disappointment

•an idiot

•insignificant

•pitiful

•a failure

•USELESS

He traced over the last word a few times, making sure to underline it for extra measure. Dean stood up to head to his room, he didn't want to add sleep deprived to the ever growing list of his personality aspects. Just as he was about to leave his phone rang. Cas. He answered it without a second thought.

"Hello Dean," Dean visibly relaxed at the familiar voice of the angel.

"Hey Cas, something wrong?"

Dean waited for a response. A few seconds passed before Cas spoke again, "No Dean, for once, I'm alright. I was actually wondering how you were doing."

Dean shifted in his seat and brought the phone closer to his ear, as if by doing so Cas would be closer too, "I'm fine."

"Dean."

Silence rung through both lines of the phone. Dean could picture Castiel standing there stubbornly, holding the phone until he got a sufficient answer.

"I- I'm fine Cas, really."

He was rewarded with more silence. Dean actually thought Cas had hung up until there was a faint rustling from the other end.

"Dean. You can't lie to me, not matter how hard you may try. I rebuilt you, I know your soul more than anyone else in the universe ever could, including yourself. So I ask again, how are you doing?" Cas' voice showed no sign of anger or irritation, only concern.

Dean took a breath, trying to figure out how he word his next sentence, "It's just, it's too much. Everyone expects me to do so much. And Cas, to be honest, I don't think I can do it all. I'm not strong enough. I never have been." He coughed to break the silence, "You- you should have pulled someone else out of hell. Someone who could have been useful to the world. Someone like my dad. He would have gotten this done ages ago."

A few minutes later they were back on the "you deserve to be saved" conversation, one they hadn't had in years. Cas using 'evidence' to prove that he had worth, Dean countering every reason.

"You lasted 30 years of torture in hell."

Dad Lasted 100.

"You stopped the apocalypse"

No. Sam did. Dean had stood and watched.

The arguing continued for a while, at one point they were so loud Dean was convinced that they had woken Sam, good thing that the men of letters had done a pretty good job of soundproofing the bunker. So far the conversation had not helped inspire Dean in the slightest.

"Listen, Cas, thanks for trying to boost my confidence and all, but I gotta go. Places to be, people to see."

"Dean, it's 11:38. I can't think of what could possibly be occupying you."

Dean groaned, sure, he could have made up some elaborate lie of how he was in the middle of a hunt and a rugaroo was gaining ground on him, but as he was told earlier, he can't lie to Cas because their angelic profound bond or something. "Cas, I'm really not in the mood for a lecture on how I need to love myself."

Dean could feel Cas' disapproving look through the phone. "Dean, I just want you to know that you are more than just a weapon."

Daddy's little blunt instrument.

"Cas, please I just, I really don't wanna hear this whole 'you can only do so much' speech."

"If you really didn't want to hear it, you would have hung up by now."

Dean kicked at the table's leg, Cas had a point, why hadn't he disconnected? Dean brought the phone off his ear and seriously considered pressing the "end call" button. Instead he lifted it back to his head, "Cas, I'm giving two minutes to go Doctor Phil on me. Lecture away."

"Thank you Dean." Dean mumbled something along the lines of 'yeah sure whatever,' before Cas continued.

"Dean Winchester, the moment I saw your soul in hell under Allistar's control I knew there was something special about you. Something that made you different from all the other souls down there. When Naomi said I was lost, looking for you, she wasn't lying. Everything down there is so dark, so empty compared to heaven, but just when I began to loose hope, there your soul lay, lighting up nearly an entire section of hell. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, the soul of the righteous man. So I grabbed your soul and brought it back to your body. Then I sewed you back together like a child would with a doll. I rebuilt you, not as a machine, but as a man. In fact, the instructions given were to bring back the life of the man, nothing else, just a vessel for Michael, but seeing your soul down there, in the depths of hell, I knew you were worth a second chance. After which I was told to avoid interaction with you at all costs, which I couldn't do, it something about you, Dean, I had never seen such a fine example of humanity, and it made me curious. At that point I began questioning everything I knew, everything my brethren told me. As you know, that didn't end well. A civil war started in heaven, a war which spilt a lot of blood. A war which would still be being fought if it weren't for you and your brother."

"A war that never would have started without me," Dean interjected.

"Dean, you are missing the point, we needed that war, the angels needed a chance at free will, though we would later find out that angels needed to be lead. Without our mistakes we would never have such knowledge. The apocalypse would have played out and the majority of the human population would be deceased. Yet you never asked for respect nor gratitude, you work for no one but at the same time you work for everyone. You are the masked hero who is never revealed."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Like Batman."

"In a sense. When I betrayed you, back when I was working with Crowley, you refused to believe that I had turned against you, it was the most painful thing to watch, you having such blind faith in me, and for a moment I considered turning back, but it was too late, the souls of purgatory had been released onto the mortal world. That was when I died for the second time. When I came back, with no memory, you waited. You waited for me to remember you, me, and the weight of my sins. And eventually I did, after taking a long look at your soul and suddenly I knew, I remembered everything."

Dean coughed.

"And who could forget when I was deemed mentally unstable, when you left me with Meg and-"

"Cas where are you going with this?"

"You are constant Dean, look at me, for example, I have been dead set on following the angelic code, willing to break that code, rebellious against my own kind, a follower, a leader, a traitor, god, leviathan, a shell of a human, an actual human, and an angel once more. Or you could look at your brother, the freak to the Harvard student to a hunter back to a freak, this time it involved demon blood of course, then he was the vessel of Lucifer, a few months later he became the man who stopped the apocalypse. Then he was soulless and not to long after that he became the person destined to close the gates of hell, now here he is, back as a hunter. Everyone goes through stages Dean, everyone but you. The rest of the world continues to move around you remain grounded. As I said before, you Dean, are constant. The unmoving variable in the equation."

"Too bad that the unmoving variable is negative."

"Well, the rest of the equation is also negative, they cancel each other out. As they say, two negatives make a positive."

Dean nodded in agreement, "Can't argue with that knowledge."

"Dean, before you hang up, I would like you to that you are not useless. Nor pathetic. You choose to be a good man instead of a great one, maybe one day you will choose both, but until that day I will be here contradicting every insult that you could possibly throw at yourself, because Dean Winchester deserves better."

"Wow Cas, thanks. Do you... Never mind." Dean leaned forward to place his elbows on the table.

"Do I what?"

"Do you ever find comfort in the fact that no one can hate you more than you hate yourself," Dean spoke carefully, articulating each syllable.

Cas hesitated before he spoke, "An odd way of putting it, odd but accurate. I believe that we all feel secure having our worst enemy be ourselves, because no matter how hard one tries to defeat oneself, they will always get what they want in the end, no matter what that may be. Because we have been brought up to fear loosing, we have made a scenario in out minds where, while we may always loose, we always win too."

Dean closed his eyes, he was too tired for this philosophical bullshit.

"But Dean, you have no reason to dislike yourself in any way. No matter what you do, it's always out of the goodness of your heart. There is a reason they call you the righteous man, and it's fairly obvious to everyone but you. You look in a mirror only to insult yourself, only seeing the bad qualities. But let me tell you what I see. I see a man who has overcome the hardest of burdens. I see a man who can greet death with a smile on his face. I see a man who refuses to do anything against his morals, no matter the cost. I see a man who has been dealt a horrible hand but continues to play the game. I see a man who deserves a second, third, fourth, fifth, and even a sixth chance, no matter what he has done. I see you, Dean, and I wish you could see him too."

Dean tried to speak, but he couldn't find the correct words. For once in his life, Dean Winchester's tongue was tied. "Damn it, Cas. I don't know where I'd be without you. I wish you were here with Sam and I back at the bunker but I understand why you don't want to be. But please keep in contact.. I need you."

Cas chuckled, "I love you too, Dean."

Shit. What had he done? Did he say he loved Cas? Had Cas said it back? The L-bomb? The word that ruins lives? Dean was so stunned he'd nearly forgot Cas was on the phone still.

"I need to finish my research, I think I may know where Metatron is residing and how to get there. Goodnight Dean." There was a click and then nothing. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He was so screwed.

Dean sat in silence for a few minutes before getting up from his chair and walking to his bedroom. He flopped onto his bed. Cas had said he loved him. Cas loves him. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The next morning when Dean arose from his room, smiling like an idiot while saying something about Cas having a lead on Metatron and walking out the door, Sam did his best not to question anything.

And when Dean and Cas came back later that night, hand in hand, he didn't question it either


End file.
